


Survival of the Fittest

by Sassaphrass



Series: Burn your kingdom Down [2]
Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hunger Games Setting, Canon-Typical Violence, Careers (Hunger Games), Careers Have Issues, Damian is a little killing machine with a heart of gold, Damian is reaped, Families of Choice, Gen, Implied/Referenced Underage Prostitution, Non-Graphic Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-17
Updated: 2015-05-17
Packaged: 2018-03-30 22:17:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3953821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sassaphrass/pseuds/Sassaphrass
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Damian wasn't just trained for the Hunger Games, he was born for them. But no one expected him to have to enter the arena this early.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Survival of the Fittest

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [I Volunteer](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3885988) by [Goodluckdetective (scorpiontales)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/scorpiontales/pseuds/Goodluckdetective). 



When they call Damian Wayne's name the day of his first reaping no one expects it. Most people figured he was arena bound one way or another, of course. Kid was the most elite Career ever born, child of two Victors, he'd be a third generation Victor on his mother's side if he won.

 

 _If_ he won.

 

When the family had talked about this possibility there'd never been any doubt in their minds that he'd win. Damian is an unholy terror, who's reliably proven he can take Tim down, even if Dick and Bruce tend to pose more of challenge for the him.

 

But he _is_ only 12 years old and small for his age. He's just like his father who'd been a tiny child entering his own games more than twenty years ago. They never thought Damian would be this young going into the arena.

 

Of course Damian is stoic, he sets his jaw and walks with squared shoulders up to the stage.

 

Tim had to grab Dick's elbow to keep him from collapsing when the name was called. He's not sure what happened or what Dick had been thinking he might do, he just knows that for a second Dick had staggered and swayed like he'd lost his balance. Dick Grayson, who does backflips off rickety fire-escapes on rainy nights, lost his balance at hearing Damian Wayne's name called.

 

Tim feels his heart constrict in his chest. Watching Damian stand next to their District Escort Harley Quinn, he can tell that the crowd has picked up on the pause in the proceedings.

Usually the announcement of the mentor follows the presentaion of the tribute like a well-oiled machine.

It's something that's worked out in advance. One of them decides ahead of schedule they're going, and then the second mentor steps up based on how the tribute looks. If it looks like a real contender Bruce will take them, if there's a decent chance Tim might step up, if it's a long shot Dick takes over because he's the only one who can handle the heartbreak. They don't send Cass. Ever. The Capitol doesn't like her and she doesn't like it.

 

The camera's are zooming in on the family, Tim knows. They're lovingly capturing their shock and distress on the faces of the usually unflappable District 3 Victors.

 

It takes Tim a second to decide what he has to do.

 

Bruce is already going as mentor to the girl and there's nothing that anyone can do about that. Dick is too shocked to stand, let alone move. Tim makes eye-contact with Alfred who nods the tiniest bit. Tim let's go of Dick and goes to stand next to Damian. He puts his hand on the kid's shoulder and tries to work up a smile.

 

It's probably not fair to Damian. Once Dick has pulled himself together there's no doubt in Tim's mind that he would want to go to the Capitol with Damian. Dick adored that kid to an extent that baffled pretty much everyone who'd you know, _ever met_ Damian, and he'd never forgive himself for not being there if the kid died. Not to mention Dick's the only one the little brat seems to not just respect but actually _like_.

But Tim knows that Dick wouldn't be able to live with himself if he _was_ there, and the kid died anyway.

 

Damian glances at him without moving his head and mutters with a sneer as they walk off stage. “Sudden attack of sentimentality Drake?'

 

Tim doesn't let anything show in his face. “I wasn't about to take the chance that Dick would have to live with having failed to keep you alive.”

 

“Ah, you're actually thinking for once Drake.” Damian replies quietly, sounding genuinely impressed for once.

 

 _It would be wrong to make a face at the back of child who may likely die in a couple of weeks, right?_ Tim wonders. The odds are not in Damian's favour. Only a single twelve year old has ever won in the last 75 years, and it got his parents killed.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Dick is in shock. He knows Tim was holding him up, and then Tim leaves and it's Alfred whose doing that. Dick has no right to fall apart. _Bruce_ is Damian's father, Dick is just an adopted older brother. The favourite adopted older brother, sure but still he has not _right_ to feel like this.

 

It's just Damian is still so _little._ Dick thought he'd have more time. He'd been planning on making deals- greasing palms and other less pleasant body parts. He'd been prepared to return to the Capitol escort scene if it meant keeping Damian out of the arena for just a few more years.

But no one had even threatened anything, not even a hint or an insinuation. He hadn't even had the chance to try and bribe anyone. Surely they'd have tried to use Damian as leverage first? Or at least let him get old enough to be a more entertaining champion?

 

He staggers into the room where he gets to say goodbye and suddenly everything starts swims into focus again. He crushes Damian to his chest. “We were the best Dami,” he chokes out. “The very best.”

 

He kneels down and brushes the hair out of the kid's eyes. “Listen, during the interview just pretend that you're talking to me. You can be cocky, but not arrogant, snarky but not rude, okay? You need to be cute and funny. Make them _like_ you. Get in the thick of things at the Cornucopia. Find a sword and kill as many people there as you can. It shouldn't be too hard for you- most of them are just kids with no training. Don't make any alliances, the temptation to kill you will be too great. Get survival gear if you can, and if there's an option at all: get up high. Most people are afraid of falling.”

 

Damian smiles softly at Dick and puts a little hand on his cheek. “I'll be fine Dick. I was born for this. And I'll never be afraid of falling. You made sure of that.”  


Dick nods and hugs Damian again. “Be the person your mother always wanted you to be. Forget about me in there. Your mother's the one whose training will be keeping you alive.”

 

Damian laughs against Dick's breastbone. _When had he gotten so big?_ When the kid had first come to Gotham he'd hardly cleared Dick's belly-button. “No she won't be, Grayson.” Damian mutters.

 

Afred comes in after a couple minutes and Dick takes a step back, wiping at his eyes. He doesn't actually say the words "Goodbye". He can't bear to.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 Jason is in District 7 when he sees the reaping recap on a vidscreen in some bar. Damian's taller, lankier, less of a child than ever before. The Camera zooms in gleefully at the way Dick staggers like he's been hit when words “Damian Wayne!” ring out over the crowd, and lingers on the grip Tim has to keep on Grayson just him upright as the kid climbs the steps straightbacked and stonefaced.

 

Jesus, Jason thinks, the kid's only just turned 12.

 

He wants to break into the Capitol, grab the kid and run away, but there's nothing he can do. Going to Gotham won't help either. He grimaces and plans to meet his contact. A woodsman, an _outsider_.

 

Contrary to what the Capitol wants people to believe there _are_ other pockets of civilization out there in the big bad world, and it's not as hard as you might think to sneak into certain Districts. There are little towns and villages scattered throughout Panem between the Districts and whole other countries to the North and to the South. Places that aren't necessarily _better_ , but which at least don't have the God-damned Hunger Games.

The man Jason is meeting is from one of those.

He's always been very helpful about getting Jason guns. Jason thinks he might double his order as he watch the camera zoom in once more on Dick's shattered expression.

 

 _Stupid Goldie, always wearing his fucking heart on his goddamn sleeve. You'd think that'd have been beaten out of the man during all those years being a whore in the Capitol._ Usually the thought would be accompanied by a sneer of contempt, but looking at the pain on his older brother's face all he can feel is pity. Poor Dick. Jason wouldn't be surprised if this killed him.

 

Tim steps forward to stand next to Damian, his official Victor mentor. The Replacement's not much of a kid anymore Jason notices distantly. He's grown into himself. He's probably not even a teenager anymore.

 

Jason finishes his drink and goes to meet his contact, pulling on his helmet as he ducks out of the bar. Live or Die, Jason's going to make the Capitol bleed for doing this to Damian, for doing this to Dick. He thinks suddenly of Alfred holding Dick up. Alfred, the first Victor of Gotham who so often gets overlooked. For him, too . For all their sakes Jason will make the Capitol pay for this.

 

Bruce, though with his ridiculous and ineffective _moral code_ , can go fuck himself. He let this happen. This is _his_ fault.

 

Jason grits his teeth. He should have made Dick let him take the kid out of there when they had a chance. It wasn't much of a life living on the run, but at least it _was_ a life.

Damian may have a better chance than any other twelve year old tribute in the Games, ever, but he was still _twelve years old_. The odds weren't in his favour. He'd most likely be dead in a few weeks.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Damian does what Grayson asked him to, and his does it with style, even if he does say so himself- despite the horrendous clothing his stylist keeps making him wear. The metallic fabrics are stiff and do not suit his complexion _at all_.

 

He doesn't take Drake's advice and try and be nice and charming during the interview (the way Tim and Bruce are when they talk to the press). He's not _good_ at being nice. He pretends like it's Grayson talking to him and these are all silly questions maybe but he doesn't really mind answering.

 

“Tell me Damian.” The bizarre looking interviewer begins. “As a legacy, the odds would normally favour you, but given your age...tell me do you think you have a chance?'

 

Damian stares at the interviewer in disbelief, this is such a transparent attempt at manipulation that it doesn't even merit the name.

 

“Age has little enough to do with anything.” Damian snaps in reply. “I'm the child of two victors and I've been raised by Victors. My father won his games at 12. Richard Grayson-” the name feels foreign and wrong on his tongue but he knows that the Capitol has never liked the nickname Dick (he likes to think that's why Dick is so insistant in holding on to it ridiculous though it is). “-won at 14, and he could have done it at twelve. I'm ready for these Games. If the odds aren't in my favour than the odds are wrong.”

 

The interviewer laughs. Most people in the Capitol laugh at Damian. They don't take him seriously. “So you haven't any doubts that you'll come out on top?”

 

Damian remembers what Grayson had said and smiles at the camera in a way that he knows is off-putting. “I'm the Grandson of Ra's Al Ghul. Heir to the Demon. My family's been calling me the little demon for year. I'm eager beyond words to show all of Panem how true those words are.”

 

“OohWeee!” The Interviewer crows obnoxiously slapping his leg. “You heard it here folks. Damian Wayne throws down the gauntlet and claims he is the man to beat!”

 

Drake warned Damian not to take Grayson's advice about allies after the first two days of training.

“You're little and you're popular, and in the early days that's going to mean people will kill you if they get the chance. Once you get past that you should be okay, you played your part perfectly in training, so you won't be anybody's priority kill, but you need the cornucopia Damian, so make a deal with the Careers- join that alliance.” Tim had told Damian over breakfast in the Tribute Centre.

 

Damian had nodded. They'd spent a lot of time trying to decide how Damian should act in training. He's not a good liar. So they needed a strategy that would work with that. Drake had advised Damian to act like an overconfident kid. Show off his fighting skills, but put them on the level of a child who trained for an hour a day three times a week rather than one who trains for three hours a day, every weekday, and six hours on weekends. Don't go near the wilderness skills, or if he did make a show of being useless. No acrobatics at all. Talk a lot and loudly about his Father and Grayson and what they've taught him. Don't mention his mother and the training from District 1.

 

As per Drake's advise, Damian made a deal with the Careers while they were waiting for their evaluation scores. His district partner sitting silent and hopeless beside him. No one's paid the slightest bit of attention to her since he was reaped. There's no question that Bruce is rooting for Damian and would probably prefer his tribute died early on so he could switch his focus to helping Tim get sponsors.

 

Damian marched up to the careers, a bunch of hulking 18 year olds who he can tell have been building muscle for show as well as for sport. One of them has overdeveloped his shoulder muscles so that he doesn't have as great a range of movement in his neck.

 

“We should be allies.” Damian declared. It's strange that people don't take him seriously here. He'd earned the respect of the people of Gotham, and proved that his bark was not nearly as bad as his bite. In the Capitol his confidence and brusqueness strikes people as funny because it's coming from a child. He wants to get angry at them but losing his temper won't help him now.

 

“Oh, and why is that?” The female tribute from 2 asked.

 

“Because my father is Bruce Wayne and my brother is the Capitol's Golden Boy. You might be able to take me in a fair fight, but I'll have sponsors.”

 

The male tribute from District 2 looked unconvinced.

 

“It'll make a better story if you die. The Capitol loves to cry over little kids like you.” he argued.

 

Damian rolled his eyes. “My brother's willing to do anything to keep me alive. Anything. Not to mention Bruce Wayne is the sort of person people like being owed favours by. Let me join the Career pack. After all, if it weren't for bureaucratic nonsense I'd be fighting for 1 right now.”

 

The future-Career pack looked at each other and then nodded. Damian would be safe for the first few days at least.

 

He'd gotten a 9 on the training score. High but not too high for a kid his age. Again, at Tim's request, of course. Damian's sure he could have gotten a 12 if Tim had only let him fully showcase his skills. But, as much as he hates Drake he knows there's no one better at strategy in all of District 3, maybe in all of Panem.

 

 

He's next to his district partner on the plane ride to the arena. He'd planned to ignore her but she looks so scared, and Damian's heart sinks when he remembers that she had Bruce for a mentor.

 

She'd been a good prospect when she was reaped, but two minutes later when his name was called, she'd been a hopeless case. They usually send Dick to mentor the hopeless cases. It's unfair that this poor girl, doomed as she is to die, was stuck with Damian's cold unsentimental father who'd lost all interest in her survival when the name of the second tribute had been called.

 

So Damian reaches out and holds her hand. She jerks her head to look at him in surprise.

 

“How are you not scared?” she whispers. “You're just a kid.”

 

“Tt.” Damian tries to clamp down on his irritation and channel Grayson.

 

“I was born and raised for this.” he explains. “Most people are afraid of things they don't understand, of uncertainty. I'm certain, and I know about these games. I couldn't be more prepared. I know what I have to do.”

 

This doesn't seem to have comforted his district partner, so he squeezes her hand and continues.

 

“If I die in the arena, I'll die knowing that my family will be safer without me. I was the most vulnerable one. By threatening me they could control all of them. Even if I win, I'll be giving the Capitol more leverage to use against the people I love. But, if I die? Than they'll be free of that. They won't be getting themselves hurt to try and keep me safe.”

 

It's not something anyone in the makeshift family of District 3 Victors talks about but it's something Damian has been aware of ever since Dick had sat him down and told him about some of the more disgusting duties Victors were expected to perform.

 

Damian's little speech has not had it's intended effect. His district partner looks poleaxed by this revelation.

 

“So either way I win.” Damian finishes awkwardly.

 

His District partner (whose name he still doesn't know and he doesn't plan to learn) doesn't speak to him again the whole ride to the arena. But they continue holding hands until the plane lands.

 

 

 

 

Damian's standing ready to be sent up to the platforms. Drake had managed to sneak in with his stylist. Drake carefully fixes the jacket Damian's been given. “Based on the clothes it won't be anywhere too exotic. Remember-”

 

“Get in the thick of things at the cornucopia. Get a sword and survival gear. Get clear if I can, join the career pack if I can't.”

 

Drake nods. He looks blank and unemotional, and Damian is suddenly very grateful that it is Drake here and no one else. Anyone else either he'd have trouble holding it together or they would.

 

Drake had volunteered for the Games. He understands Damian's confidence, and is able to think strategically- not emotionally even in moments like this.

 

“Look after Dick for me? If I-” Damian starts

 

“Shut up, you demonic brat” Drake snaps. “You need to forget Dick and Bruce right now. Forget all of us in Gotham. You are Damian Al Ghul- Heir to the Demon. You can and will kill them all. Be the man your mother would have raised you to be.”

 

Damian nods. “Dick told me the same thing.”

 

For the first time since Damian was reaped Drake's mouth quirks up just a little at the corner. “Well, for once that air-head was right.”

 

The five minute warning sounds and Damian steps into the tube.

 

He rises up into a swampy arena dense with trees and undergrowth, and towering cliffs in the distance. The tress rising out of the water are good news. They look old and sturdy and Damian is light enough that he'll be able to move fast flitting between them while the older tributes will be too large and heavy.

 

The Cornucopia is on a little island rising up out of the muddy water. There aren't any trees between it and the platforms,.

 

Damian puts his game face on. The one he hadn't even known how to take off until he met Dick Grayson. He crouches.

 

The starting horn blares.

 

Damian is short enough that wading through the water is going to be considerably more difficult for him than for the larger, older children. So, he darts under it, swimming towards the island as quickly as he can. Later on that will be too dangerous, he has no doubt that soon enough they'll be mutts in the water. But this is the bloodbath. They don't want to see him torn in half by some nightmare monster. Not yet.

 

He's first to the island, and up running towards the mouth of the cornucopia even as he takes stock of where the other tributes are. The Careers are closing in quickly.

 

Damian darts to the back. Sure enough there's a sword on the wall, one obviously meant for him since it's mean to be strapped across the back not hung from a belt. He throws it on and glances at the other children. None of them are on shore yet. Apparently there's some sort of deep trench right before the island and it clearly took even the Careers by surprise judging by how they're all floundering around in water suddenly up to their chests.

 

“Tt.” Damian can't help but shake his head at them.

 

He rifles through the Cornucopia with one eye on them as they climb up onto the shore. He grabs a backpack filled with food, and survival materials. He straps on a couple bandoliers of knives, which judging by the length of the straps, were meant for some other specific tribute.

 

He's not sure what comes over him in that moment, but the carefully crafted tactical strategic masterpiece Drake had given him suddenly goes out the window.

 

He drops the backpack of survival gear and jumps up the racks of supplies and weapons to brace himself against the struts and supports of the ceiling.

 

He waits like a spider in a trap for the first Career (currently preoccupied fighting with some of the other tributes) to stagger in.

 

He kills all but one of the Careers in the blood bath on the first day. None of them provide too much difficulty. He cuts through the the remaining tributes at the Cornucopia like a hot knife through butter.

 

Then he grabs what he'll need. The knives, the sword, some climbing spikes, some rope, some food, some water and heads out.

 

He does what Dick suggested. He gets high up as quickly as he can, flicking from branch to branch in the trees.

 

He's grimly satisfied to think that his Games must not be particularly entertaining. What with him taking the Career pack out early and pretty much every tribute who's strategy wasn't hiding and survival skills there can't be much drama to entertain the captive audience.

 

By the end of the second day half the recruits are dead.

 

By the end of the third day two-thirds are.

 

The last third are considerably more difficult to hunt down. Damian has to hand it to some of them, they are excellent at evading detection and capture.

 

Damian doesn't talk during the games. He doesn't make alliances, or draw out any deaths. He doesn't throw in any back flips or handsprings as he leaps through the trees. He's going to be a Victor but he's not planning on being a popular one. He knows what happens to popular Victors.

 

All the same he does get sponsors. A cup of water one day. Better shoes for leaping and climbing another.

 

The remaining tributes are picked off slowly but steadily over the next week or so. Fighting amongst each other or taken out by mutts or killed by Damian.

 

The final showdown is between Damian and the surviving Career. They're driven together by swarms of giant flesh eating bats (Damian can't help but wonder if the entire games had been meant to send a pointed message to District 3: Bruce Wayne and the Batman in particular. Maybe the Capitol wasn't as clueless to their nighttime activities as they had all hoped.

 

“Are you even human?!” the hulking male tribute from District 1 roars as he swings wildly at Damian who is leaping and jumping to avoid the blows.

 

Damian's Games finish with his opponent’s sword through his chest and his opponent’s head rolling at his feet.

 

Damian doesn't touch the sword, if he pulls it out he'll bleed to death in seconds, and since he's still alive that means it must have missed anything too important, so he sits down cross-legged and waits for them to come get him.

 

 

 

The outfits for Victors are considerably less ridiculous than the stuff they put tributes in, usually reflecting more the individual rather than the district. The stylist seems a bit at a loss for what to do. Damian hasn't given them much to work with other than the general sense of a belligerent personality and a deadly no-nonsense approach to killing. She goes for all black with just a few accents of colour. Blue one day, green the next, red, and so on. It's a ridiculously safe choice and Damian considers asking for an outfit in Robin's colours just to shock her, but knows better that to really ask.

 

Drake has informed Damian that his father was more or less banished from the Capitol on the day his tribute died, and has been holed up in Gotham ever since.

 

Drake squeezes Damian's shoulder in an unwanted and out of character demonstration of support and affection. He also reassures Damian that his approach has been a huge success. The Capitol wasn't intrigued, they were annoyed and slightly frightened by him. This awkward young tribute who had been seemingly unaffected by the entire Games makes them look weak without being the least bit inflamatory.

 

“Just keep it up a little while longer. Than we'll get you back to Gotham and Alfred and Dick will look after you.”

 

Drake is probably the only person in the Capitol that thinks Damian needs the slightest bit of looking after. His stylist team seems more than a bit wary of him these days. As if he's a wild animal that must be approached with caution since he could lash out at any moment.

 

“So, Damian-” The interviewer asks him with obvious relish. “How does it feel to return home a Victor? You won't be the odd one out now will you?”

 

Damian glares at the man with his ridiculous hair and stupid, weirdly white teeth.

 

“This entire exercise has been extremely tiresome.” he replies, without breaking eye-contact.

 

“Come on!” There's something desperate around the interviewer's eyes now. Damian's making him look bad. “Surely, you must be looking forward to standing toe to toe with your father, Richard Grayson and Timothy Drake?”

 

“Well, I hope you realize that I've been light-years above Timothy Drake since I was born.”

 

The interviewer forces a laugh. “But seriously Damian, how do you think your father will react to your stupendous Victory? This makes you a third generation Victor!”

 

“I am capable of counting just fine. I doubt my father will react much. He might have someone cook one of my favourite meals perhaps.” Damian still isn't breaking eye-contact.

 

“And Richard Grayson? How do you think he'd react? Rumour has it he's awful fond of you little scamp!”

 

“Richard did care for me during a period of time my father was for-..” Damian catches himself and stares at Drake in the audience in panic, Tim makes a small gesture. Keep going, cover up your mistake. “That is, whenever my father simply cannot tear himself away from the delights of the Capitol it is mainly Richard who looks after me. And he's a rather silly frivolous person so I assume he'll react by doing something true to his nature. He might throw a party or confetti... I'll consider myself blessed if he does not attempt to hug me and only performs a single handspring to vent his excitement.”

 

“Well, I'm sure that's something we'd all like to see.” The interviewer says winking at the camera, with what Damian is old enough to realize is a lecherous smirk.

 

Idly Damian catches himself eying the pen in the man's pocket. He could grab it and kill him in no time.

 

He swallows and tries to smile for the camera. Judging by Drake's alarmed expression it doesn't quite turn out right.

 

He makes it through the rest of it though. Somehow.

 

The coronation and the trip back. He doesn't slip, and show even a fraction of the toll that he Games have taken on him. The face he presents to the cameras is that of a hardened sarcastic killer completely unaffected and unimpressed by the Hunger Games. A stone. Not a real boy, with feelings and love and fear. A shell, a killing machine.

 

He's banking on getting back to Father and Grayson and Alfred. Back to his pets. He's just got to hold it together until he's safe and then he'll trust them to put him back together the right way. To fix whatever the Games broke inside him. Alfred at this point is probably better at dealing Games related trauma than anyone else in Panem.

 

Damian's hanging on by his fingernails and he knows it, but he does get a certain satisfaction from the fact that the only other person who knows it is Drake. Judging by the ammount of fear he's inspiring no Capitolite has the slightest clue how close Damian is to breaking.

 

When Damian steps off the train, Grayson's not there even though everyone else is. Half the District has turned out, and even Cass and Stephanie are standing next to Father who starts to say something “...Damian, son-” Damian doesn't hear the rest, there's this look on his father's face and Grayson isn't there.. and Damian just knows.

 

As he crumbles to the ground and cracks his head open on the pavement he can't help but distantly think that the Capitol must be loving this. It's the most dramatic Victor homecoming they've had in ages-the stone cold killer folding like a house of cards.

 

He feels his father's strong arms pick him up, and he wants to control himself, to stand up and stop crying and be a man. Be a Wayne. Be the Heir to the Demon.

 

But, he can't. Because Grayson's gone. And Damian can't stop crying.

 

Grayson's _gone_. And Damian _needs_ him.

 

Damian lived.

 

Damian killed 14 people.

 

Damian lived.

 

And Grayson's not here to put him back together.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sorry it's just: Damian Wayne would be unstoppable in the Hunger Games. We all know it. 
> 
> Did you like? Leave me a comment they honestly always make my day, and if there's any interest I might write a couple more fics with Jason's backstory, and you know, what the fuck happened to Dick.


End file.
